Sloane

by V. J. Chambers

  I really didn’t know what I was going to do about Jeff.

  Axel met me at the door in a tuxedo. He looked surprisingly subdued. His suit had no flashes of plaid or pinstripe or pink. He eyed me critically. “What the hell are you wearing?”

  I looked down. “A dress. A really expensive fucking dress, may I add.”

  He moved away from the door, letting me inside. “That dress is hideous.”

  I picked up the skirts and examined it. It was made of a shimmery black fabric. It was simple. I didn’t see what was wrong with it. “I really don’t think it is.”

  He cocked his head. “And how would you know?”

  “Well, I have eyes.” I glared at him. I was barely inside the door, and he was already being a dick.

  “It’s all loose and flowy,” he said. “You look like you’re wearing a mumu.”

  “I have to hide a gun in this dress.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “A gun?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Saving Leigh’s life, remember? This Armstrong guy is going to take some convincing.”

  Axel walked around me in a circle, tapping his chin. “You need to hide a gun.”

  “Yes,” I said. “Don’t freak out about that.”

  “I’m not,” he said. “I’m thinking.”

  “Don’t hurt yourself.”

  He looked up, startled. Then he barked out a quick laugh. “You’ve got a sharp little tongue on you, don’t you, Sloane?” He gave me a mischievous grin. “I have to admit I like that in a girl. I like women who keep me on my toes.”

  I blushed again. “This is not… a date or something.”

  “Of course it’s not. I don’t go on dates.” He spat out the word disdainfully. He went back to circling me.

  “Can you stop that?” I said.

  “I told you, I’m thinking.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them again. I did not have the patience to deal with him. I really didn’t.

  He came around in front of me, and he put his hands on my waist.

  “What are you doing?” I said.

  He ignored me. He dragged his hands higher, up over my rib cage, then cupping my breasts.

  I slapped at his hands. “Hey!”

  He turned away and pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Hi, Phillipa. I know it’s last minute, but I was wondering if you’d be interested in providing a dress for my date tonight.”

  “What?” I said. “There’s nothing wrong with this dress.”

  “It needs to be sexy, but it needs to be able to conceal as well.” Axel wandered further into his apartment, not acknowledging me. He listened to the other side of the conversation. “No, no, she’s probably a six. She’s not fat at all. Would I go to an event with a fat chick?”

  I let out a noise of disgust. I hated Axel Whitman. I despised him.

  Axel was still talking. “Well, I was thinking about that silver asymmetrical number…. Yes, the one from the spring collection…. Oh, I’d need it right away. If you want me to send… Oh, you will?… Great.” Axel grinned. “Thank you so much Phillipa. Yes, love to Megs.” Then he made a kiss noise.

  Seriously. A kiss noise.

  He hung up and whirled around to face me. “I’m getting you a better dress. Something designer. Trust me, you’ll thank me. You’re a lovely girl, but you have absolutely no idea how to let anyone know that. You cover up all your best assets, and black is really doing nothing for you. It makes you sort of fade out, blend in.”

  “I want to blend in,” I said. “I don’t want to stand out. If I stand out, people are going to remember me, and I’m going to try to take a man captive and torture him for information.”

  He drew his eyebrows together. “Well, as long as you take Phillipa’s dress off before you do any of the torturing. It’s a loaner.”

  I sucked in air through my nose. “You really care about clothes a lot, don’t you? Are you gay?”

  He chuckled. “Sloane, love, I’m Axel Whitman.”

  That wasn’t an answer, was it? But then, I knew he wasn’t gay. I’d seen it in the way that he looked at me. The way he was looking at me right now. He was attracted to me.

  Me. Little Sloane, the one that no one noticed. And this guy was noticing me.

  Of course, I shouldn’t read too much into that. Axel certainly didn’t think there was anything special about me. He had no concern for anyone’s feelings, and he was rude and self-centered and arrogant and focused on appearances and… and a horrible person.

  “Anyway,” he said, stepping closer to me, lowering his voice. “Maybe you shouldn’t try to blend in so much.” He picked up a lock of my hair and moved it off my shoulder, baring my neck.

  My heart sped up. Damn it. Flustered again. He was so freaking close.

  He ran his fingers over my hair lightly. “We should probably do something about your hair, too.” He drew back and scrutinized me. “Seriously, did you put any effort at all into looking presentable this evening?”

  “Fuck you.” I shoved him.

  He stumbled a little, then righted himself. “Jesus,” he muttered. “Overreact much?”

  * * *

  I came out of Axel’s bathroom in the dress that had been delivered. It was made of a silver material, and it gathered over one shoulder. It fell over my body in long, careless furrows, leaving my other shoulder bare. The fabric didn’t cling, so I was still able to keep my gun, which was holstered at the small of my back. Axel had also insisted that I pull my hair up. He had an idea of how I should wear my hair, but no real knowledge about how to achieve the look. So, we’d spent a frustrating hour waiting for the dress to arrive with my going in and doing something to my hair, and then coming out for Axel to criticize it and tell me to try something else. Eventually, I’d managed something that passed his inspection, which was good, because he’d been five minutes away from calling someone to come in and do my hair for me.

  I tried to tell him that it really didn’t matter what I looked like. My end game was not to impress the people at this benefit. I couldn’t care less if I looked good.

  But he waved that away, saying I was lying. He claimed that everyone on earth cared deeply about how they looked, but that some people didn’t bother with it, because they were too lazy to make a commitment to excellence.

  I nearly killed him at least four times.

  But…

  Well, there was something about it I kind of liked. I didn’t think anyone had ever fussed over me before. When Silas and I were kids, it had been a miracle for us to get to school in clothes that were clean and matched. Our parents had never taken much interest in us. To them, we were just an inconvenience, something annoying that got in the way of what they really cared about. What they really cared about was heroin. They’d sacrifice anything to get that.

  Including Silas and me, as it had turned out.

  But we’d stopped that.

  Anyway, the only person who’d ever cared what I looked like was Jolene French. But even she had played up my ordinariness. She’d always dressed me to be a shadow, so that I could slip in and out unnoticed. There weren’t a lot of other female assassins at Op Wraith, but there were a few. And some of them occasionally got “glamorous” assignments. They’d have to look beautiful and be charming enough to get a target alone. Then, of course, they’d have to kill him. But French never selected me for those kinds of assignments. It might have been because Silas and I always worked together, and there was no need for Silas in a mission like that. But I’d always gotten a message, an undercurrent beneath, that told me that I wasn’t that kind of girl.

  But Axel seemed convinced that I could be. And despite myself, I enjoyed that feeling.

  He was sitting on the couch in his living room, bent over the table, snorting cocaine through a rolled-up dollar bill.

  “Do you have to do that?” I said, annoyed.

  He looked up. “Yes, as a matter of fact—Oh. You’re dressed.”

  It was quiet.

 
Axel got up off the couch and took a step toward me. Then he stopped. He did another one of his lingering gazes, taking me all in, sliding his gaze over my entire body. He let out a slow breath. “That’s much better.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “You think?”

  He nodded, still staring at me. “Definitely. You’re breathtaking. Perfect.”

  I blushed again.

  “So?” he said. “You have something to say to me?”

  “Like what?”

  He let out a huge sigh. “Well, you’re welcome.”

  And just like that, I felt like killing him again. “Aren’t we late for this thing?”

  “Not even going to thank me? You know, Sloane, you really could work on your manners.”

  “My manners?”

  He went back to the table and drew another line of white powder through his nose. “Being on time for an event isn’t really done anyway. You ever heard the expression ‘fashionably late’?”

  I seethed.

  * * *

  “Axel.” A woman with coiffed blond hair threw her arms around him. She was wearing a black dress that looked a lot similar to the one I had been wearing, before Axel made me change. Not the same dress, of course, but the same kind of style. I wasn’t sure why the heck Axel had determined that I couldn’t wear it. Of course, this woman looked older than me. She might have been in her late forties or early fifties, I couldn’t be sure. She was still beautiful, but I could see her age around her eyes.

  Axel hugged the woman back.

  She pulled away and cupped his face with her hands. “It’s so good to see you, sweetie. You haven’t been by the house in so long.” She spoke with the faint trace of an accent.

  “I’ve been busy,” said Axel.

  The woman dropped her hands. “Right. Of course.”

  Axel put his arm around my waist and pulled me closer to him. I was alarmed, both at his hands against my skin through the thin fabric of my dress, and at the fact that he was brushing up against my gun. He turned to me. “Sloane, this is my mother.” He turned back to the woman. “Mother, this is Sloane.”

  Axel’s mother offered me her hand. “Oh, hi there.”

  I shook hands with her—sort of limply. She had a very delicate grip.

  She patted Axel’s cheek. “Your father’s off to get drinks. He’ll be back over in a moment.”

  “Really,” said Axel, “I’ll see him later on. Sloane and I should—” Then he broke off.

  A man was coming across the room. The Shepherd Foundation benefit was taking place in an honest-to-goodness ballroom. It was tastefully decorated with low mood lighting. Men and women in uniform wandered to and fro with trays of champagne and hors d’ouevres. The man didn’t pay any attention to his surroundings. He was carrying two glasses, and he walked with a purpose toward us. He was much older than Axel’s mother, his hair thin and white, but I knew without a doubt that this was Axel’s father.

  Sure enough, the man stopped abruptly when he got over to us. He handed one of the glasses to Axel’s mother without looking at her. “Axel. You’ve arrived.”

  Axel’s face twisted. “Hello, Father.”

  Axel’s father eyed me. “This one of your strippers?”

  I stiffened. “No.”

  His father raised an eyebrow.

  Axel smirked. “Have I or have I not paid back the loan you gave me for The Golden Key? With interest? Isn’t it actually making me a… profit? Honestly, Father, I thought you’d be proud.”

  “Sure, I am,” said Axel’s father, putting a hand on Axel’s shoulder. “But you do have a faulty understanding about what’s appropriate and what isn’t. And making a living from a strip club, son? That’s sleazy. It’s time you moved on from your childish play and started something with substance.”

  “Derek,” said Axel’s mother. “We’re at a party, let’s be pleasant.”

  Derek’s lip twisted, but he didn’t say anything else.

  It was quiet.

  “Well,” said Axel. “Lovely to see the both of you. As always.” He tightened his grip on me. “Sloane, shall we?”

  “Uh, sure.”

  He led me away.

  “Good to meet you,” called Axel’s mother.

  “Yes,” I said. “You too.”

  Axel dragged me across the room. There was a stocked bar over in one corner, with a uniformed bartender. Axel ordered straight bourbon, downed it, and then got another.

  I scanned the room, looking for James Armstrong. Thus far, I hadn’t seen him anywhere. What if he didn’t show up? Then all of this was going to be a waste.

  “You want a drink?” Axel asked me.

  “Um, no thanks,” I said. I didn’t need to be drunk when I was trying to take down Armstrong.

  Axel shrugged. He gestured with his bourbon to a table. “Let’s sit down.”

  We did.

  I positioned myself so that I could see the entire room. I scrutinized everyone’s face. It had been years since I worked at Costello labs, but I was fairly sure that I’d recognize Armstrong when I saw him.

  “I hate these things,” said Axel. “How much longer do we have to stay?”

  I kept my gaze out on the room. “Until I find Armstrong, that’s how long. Actually, if you want to leave, you can. All I wanted was to get in.”

  “Well, how would that look if I left you here?”

  “Would anyone even notice?”

  “I’m Axel Whitman. People would notice.”

  “Well, I don’t see him anywhere. Maybe he isn’t even coming. Maybe I did all of this for nothing.”

  “At least you look hot.”

  I gave him a withering look. “You really don’t care, do you? Leigh’s in danger. My brother is in danger. And so is Griffin, and I know you don’t like him, but I care about those people. They’re counting on me to help them, and you’re acting like nothing matters.”

  He pursed his lips. “Sorry.” But he didn’t sound sorry.

  I looked back out over the party. “Never mind. I don’t know why I try to talk to you.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  I glanced at him.

  He was swallowing the rest of his bourbon.

  I looked down at my hands, which were folded in my lap. “Look, thank you. For the dress and for… everything. It really is a nice dress.” I looked up at him.

  “I knew you liked it.”

  And I looked away. God. He was incapable of saying anything that didn’t sound smug or horrible.

  “They’re miserable, you know,” said Axel.

  “Who is?”

  “My parents.” He leaned back into his chair. “Well, at least my mother is. I don’t suppose my father cares one way or the other. He hasn’t paid attention to her in years. All he does is sleep with women who are younger than her. It’s obscene. He’s ancient. But he can’t show her any respect.”

  I wrinkled my brow. “You care about respecting women?”

  He set down his empty glass. “Sure. Why would that surprise you?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you seem to treat them like accessories or maids or dolls you can dress up.”

  He ran his tongue over his lower lip. “Is that what you think you are to me? A doll?”

  I rolled my eyes.

  He leaned over. “Would you like to be my doll? We could play lots of… undressing games.”

  “Stop it.” I held up a finger in his face. But I didn’t like the way his words had affected me. It was like they’d crawled inside my body, making things stir between my legs. Damn Axel Whitman. Damn him to hell.

  He traced a pattern over the tablecloth. “Look, I don’t make promises. It’s not the same. I don’t break my word. Not the way he does.”

  “You think that makes a difference?”

  He shrugged. “I do. I think that’s the best anyone can do. It’s obvious that love fades. Attraction fades. Affection fades. So, you shouldn’t promise to love, honor, and cherish someone when that
’s impossible.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “I don’t believe that. It’s not impossible.”

  He snorted. “Well, I guess your parents are still as giddy-in-love as they were when they first met.”

  “My parents are dead,” I snapped, looking back out over the room.

  “I’m sorry,” said Axel. “I didn’t mean—”

  “There he is.” I’d spotted James Armstrong. I pointed across the room.

  Axel turned in the direction I was pointing. “That’s him, huh?”

  I nodded. “Yup. That’s him. I need to get him alone. I can’t whip out my gun here in front of everyone.” I sized up the place. There was the entrance where we’d just come in, and there were a few emergency exits. But I couldn’t be sure that opening one of them wouldn’t trigger an alarm. Going back out the entrance was the best bet. As we’d come in, I’d noticed some empty hallways. I’d lead him down one of those, and then once we were out of sight, I’d get my gun on him. “I need some kind of excuse to get him to come with me. I wonder if he’ll remember me from when I interned there. But if I use that card, I’m going to have to talk about science stuff, and I don’t really know anything.”

  Axel was standing up. “Leave it to me.”

  “To you?” I was incredulous.

  “I recognize that guy,” said Axel. “Trust me. I’ll help you get him alone.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Jimmy,” said Axel, grinning widely.

  James Armstrong turned to him, cocking his head in confusion. But then he seemed to recognize Axel, and he smiled in return. “Axel. Good to see you.”

  Axel pumped Armstrong’s hand furiously. “Not much of a party, huh?”

  “Oh, it’s not bad for what it is,” he said. “I’m only here because the Shepherd Foundation is the nonprofit organization attached to Costello Labs. What about you? I wouldn’t have thought you’d be contributing to cancer research.”

  “My father’s a contributor,” said Axel. “It makes my mother happy when I show up to events like this.”

  They were both completely ignoring me, which was kind of annoying, but I guessed I’d let this play out, see what it was that Axel was up to. I only hoped he didn’t ruin everything for me.